It is tempting to think that this is merely a disruption in service, only the latest break-up as opposed to the Big One. After all, we've rescued this relationship so many times before.
But perhaps that's the point. In the last year and a half, the philosopher tried to end things between us 4 times before now - unless I'm missing one. At number 5 it may be time for me to accept that this is it. We're up against too much. The philosopher himself is up against too much.
And the distance made it harder. We couldn't have that casual, friendly, loving time together that makes a relationship a full part of life, that knits together the whole of two people rather than just their kinky connection. We had that when we were together, but we weren't together enough. It wasn't the D/s that suffered, although certainly it is more fully satisfying when you have the physical experience as well as the very powerful mental manipulation. It was the rest of it. All the rest of it.
But a long distance relationship takes commitment and effort, and for all sorts of reasons the philosopher wasn't up to it - isn't up to it. The reasons are many and I am not judging him for it. In any relationship, you have to accept each other for who you are. I have to accept him for who he is. I have to accept and I have to let go.
It will take a while. And yes, I'm crying - though not this time those body-breaking sobs that ripped up my body after July 1st. Deep inside, I knew this was coming. I'm grieving, but I'll be all right. Eventually...
Sure, I'd be... I can't even come up with the right adjective for how happy I'd be if he woke up one day thinking: "this was a big mistake, why did I let her go?" I had a dream last night... but it was just a dream, wishful thinking, not something to hug to myself, not something to bring that smile to my lips every morning that I used to have... I'd wake up, and I'd remember I was his, and I would smile...
So yes... if he wrote... if he called... even as a friend... it's hard to let go when I felt closer to him than to ANYONE I've ever known. I felt so close... and yet he never gave me his own home address and never let me visit there.
I love you, John. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for all my parts in this not working out. And if I could prostrate myself on an altar and prepare the appropriate burnt offerings so that you could be free of your internal chains, so that you could write, so that you could finish, so that you could come out into the sunshine and open yourself to love, I would do it. I don't hate you, I won't hate you, I'll never hate you, you are too amazingly special for me to want anything for you other than happiness and peace.
You were my master.
You were my lover.
You were my very best friend.
And it is perhaps the last of these that it is hardest to lose.